


The Importance of Being Tetsuo

by Looali



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Rich Bokuto, Romance, The Importance of Being Earnest AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Looali/pseuds/Looali
Summary: 'Besides, your name isn’t even Tetsurou, it’s Tetsuo.’‘It isn’t Tetsuo; it’s Tetsurou.’‘No,’ Bokuto scoffed, tilting his head in derision while something like panic sparked in his eyes. ‘You have always told me it was Tetsuo. I introduce you as Tetsuo. You answer to Tetsuo. You even look as if your name was Tetsuo. The name literally means earnest!’In an attempt to escape the drudgery of country life, Kuroo Tetsurou invented 'Kuroo Tetsuo', his brother/alter-ego. But, after falling hard for Kozume Kenma and inadvertently leading his best friend (and supposedly eternal bachelor) Bokuto Koutarou straight to his bored and oh-so pragmatic adoptive brother, Akaashi Keiji, Kuroo becomes completely wrapped up in his world of lies. The only thing that can fix this is a large black handbag, a remorseful nurse-turned-tutor, and some conveniently placed birth certificates.The Importance of Being Earnest AU for which nobody asked.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	The Importance of Being Tetsuo

‘ _Have you seen the well-to-do, up on Lennox Avenue? On that famous thoroughfare, with their noses in the air-_ ’

Bokuto Koutarou’s voice rang through his Tokyo apartment, the airy tune bouncing off of the arching ceilings and immense windows.

‘ _High hats and narrow collars. White spats and fifteen dollars. Spending every di-'_ the note held for a second too long, _‘me - for a wonderful time._ ’

His fingers jumped into action on the piano, dancing over the well-worn notes. His assistant moved around him as he played, quietly setting up an oversized barbeque grill on the large kotatsu.

‘ _If you’re blue and you don’t know where to go to-_ ’

Konoha skewered vegetables and meat as the grill began to heat, brushing a light glaze over them.

‘ _Why don’t you go where Harlem sits? Puttin’ on the Ritz!_ ’

Bokuto shouted the final word, barking out a laugh and spinning on his piano stool as the yakimono began cooking.

‘Did you hear what I was playing, Konoha?’

Konoha held in a sigh, reminding himself that he was here to get paid. To get paid well. ‘A bad rendition of some English song from a hundred years ago?’

Bokuto ignored Konoha and turned back to the piano, ‘The 1920s were the best era for piano music. It was just,’ he paused, struggling to pick a word, ‘fun.’ Bokuto’s fingers skimmed the keys, playing one, two, three notes before he abruptly stood, ‘I may not play “accurately” but I play with soul.’

Konoha hummed dismissively, grabbing a pair of tongs to turn the meat and vegetables on the grill. Bokuto watched him work while moving from the piano to the kotatsu. His eyelids began to droop as the smell of the glaze filled up the room. It was cosy under the table, and he couldn’t help but drift into a comfortable lull as the sweet smell of his favourite foods hit his senses.

‘Did you get the stir-fried vegetables for Yakkun?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Could you,’ he paused while getting comfortable, laying back on the floor before rolling onto his side to continue watching Konoha work, ‘bring them in here.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Konoha sighed, dropping the tongs onto the table before leaving the room.

As soon as he heard the kitchen door swing shut Bokuto pulled himself up and leant over the grill, inspecting the skewers of meat. He reached to grab a couple but burned himself on the edge of the grill, sending two skewers flying off of the platter and onto the floor in his attempts to move away. ‘Ah jeez,’ his voice was muffled by his wrist, as he attempted, and failed, to suck the pain away. Bokuto stared at the two meat skewers as they stained his plush, white living room rug. He noted the kitchen door swinging open and then closed again as he frowned with indecision.

His hand dropped from his mouth as he leaned down to pick the meat up off of the floor and quickly covered the spot with a spare pillow. Konoha only cleaned yesterday, after all – the stain should go unnoticed for a week. He lay back down, humming contentedly as he ate. His cousins should be here in the next hour, and the time could not go slowly enough.

‘Konoha,’ he stared up at the ceiling, the sizzling of the barbeque filling the apartment air as Konoha set out the stir-fried vegetables.

A sigh. Anyone except Bokuto would be able to feel the exasperation behind it, ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Remember last month, when Kuroo and Komi were here?’ A short hum encouraged Bokuto to continue, ‘We drank six bottles of whisky.’

Konoha turned to look at his boss, raising an eyebrow, ‘That’s right?’

‘Well I was just wondering,’ he paused for a moment, giving Konoha a quick smile, ‘just for information, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Why do people, well, drink _so much_ when they come to a, uh, “bachelor’s” home?’ His fingers fumbled around the apostrophes, moving too many times to feel comfortable.

‘Well,’ Konoha shrugged, ‘the alcohol in married households tends to be pretty shit.’

Bokuto gasped, sitting up to stare at his servant, ‘Why?’

‘They spend their money on babies, I guess?’

At Konoha’s shrug Bokuto let out a heavy sigh, ‘Remind me to never get married, Konoha. It sounds like the _worst._ ’

‘From experience, I have to agree with you. Although to be honest, I wasn’t married for very long so-’

He was cut off by an abrupt yawn from Bokuto, as the other man stretched to grab more meat, ‘I don’t really want to talk about your family life, Konoha.’

‘Yeah, I try not to think about it much myself.’ Konoha replied, shooting Bokuto a withering look as the doorbell rang. Before Konoha could finish his first step, they heard a key being pushed into the lock. Konoha peered around the doorway, nodding to whoever entered. ‘Kuroo is here,’ he called, before walking back out of the room and into the kitchen.

After shouting a greeting to Konoha, Kuroo strolled into the living room, high-fiving Bokuto’s as he walked past. He flopped onto the sofa set behind his friend. ‘How’s it going, bro?’. He snorted, ‘Eating as usual, ay.’ Out of everyone Bokuto knew, Kuroo Tetsuo was particular in that he was able to make himself look entirely at home no matter where he went. Bokuto imagined he’d be able to lounge as comfortably at the bottom of the ocean as he currently did on the designer sofa set. In this, Bokuto ‘friendship is my middle name’ Koutarou, had found a like-soul and so gained immense comfort from the ease with which Kuroo roamed his home.

‘Sorry, I was under the expression that people usually eat at five o'clock,’ Bokuto grumbled, shifting under the kotatsu to hide his stomach from Kuroo’s sly gaze. He frowned as Kuroo moved down onto the floor and slipped under the kotatsu with him. ‘Where have you been for the past month, anyway? You missed Konoha’s birthday!’

‘I’m sure he was devastated,’ Kuroo droned, rolling his eyes as he pulled an old t-shirt off of the back of the settee. ‘I was in Miyagi.’

‘Gross,’ Bokuto reached up to grab another bowl of stir fry, leaving one bowl on the table. ‘What do you even do there?’

‘I amuse people,’ Kuroo stated, leaning on his elbows so that he could grin down at Bokuto, ‘with my excessive charm and wit.’

Bokuto let out his trademark bark of a laugh, before dropping some more vegetables into his mouth. ‘And who exactly do you amuse?’, he asked, after chewing a particularly crunchy beansprout.

Kuroo shrugged, ‘Neighbours.’

‘Oh? Got nice neighbours in your part of Miyagi then?’

‘Fucking awful. Never speak to any of them.’

Bokuto gave another booming laugh, leaning up to slap his friend on the shoulder before clambering out from under the kotatsu. ‘I’m sure they love you to pieces, Tetsuo.’ He stood fully, raising his arms above his head and stretching with a deep groan, the cracks of his spine making Kuroo wince from his spot on the floor.

‘So, what’s with the big spread?’ Kuroo asked, poking at one of the dishes. ‘Who’re you trying to impress?’

‘Just cousin Yakkun,’ Bokuto said, as he walked past the sofa to seat himself at the piano.

Kuroo groaned, slipping off of his elbow and flopping back onto the floor. ‘Great,’ he responded, dully.

‘And cousin Kenma.’

‘Oho ho!’ Kuroo jumped up, nearly upheaving the table with him in his sudden change of mood, ‘Great!’

‘You should probably be off; they’ll be here soon.’ Bokuto stated, beginning to play a light tune.

‘What?’ Kuroo stood and walked towards the piano, ‘Why?’

‘Because Yakkun hates you?’

‘And why, exactly, would he hate me?’ Kuroo scoffed, leaning toward the piano to watch Bokuto play, ‘I’m a delight.’

Bokuto stopped, mid-melody, and raised an eyebrow at his scruffy haired friend. Kuroo merely shrugged in response, causing Bokuto to bellow out yet another laugh. ‘You flirt like a dog with Kenma, it’s horrible to watch.’ He sniffed, ‘Though not as horrible as watching him flirt back.’

‘You think he flirts back?’ Kuroo asked, beaming.

‘Oh yeah, bro. You’re totally in.’

‘Nice.’ Kuroo nodded, ‘Anyway that’s why I’m back in Tokyo.’ He pushed himself off of the piano, walking around the room and fiddling with his hair, ‘I’m in love with Kenma, and I’m going to ask him out.’

‘You’re what?’ Bokuto demanded, standing from the piano and staring at his best friend.

‘I’m going to date Kenma.’

‘You can’t do that.’ Bokuto stated, shaking his head, ‘I – I – I won’t allow it.’

Kuroo stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. ‘You won’t allow it?’ his voice gained pitch as he spoke, ‘What do you mean you won’t allow it? I’m 23 and he’s 21, we’re grown-ass adults, Kou!’

‘I mean what I say – and don’t touch that food!’

‘You’ve been eating it the whole time!’

‘Well, they’re my family!’

‘And they’ll be mine soon too.’ Kuroo smirked, reaching to grab a skewer from the barbeque.

‘I doubt it, dude.’

Kuroo’s hand paused mid-reach, ‘What do you mean “I doubt it, dude”? What is there to doubt?’

Bokuto walked across the room, grabbing the skewer in Kuroo’s hand. ‘Well, for a start, people like Kenma never date the people they flirt with. They date accountants and bankers and – and – people like that. Second of all, I don’t give my consent.’ Bokuto huffed, before taking a bite out of the skewer in his hand.

‘Your consent!’ Kuroo laughed, exasperated, ‘Why the fuck would I need your consent?’

‘’m ‘is firs’ cousin.’ Bokuto managed through a mouthful of meat, ‘’ow c’n I le’ you da’e ‘im w’ Keishi?’

‘Swallow, Kou.’

Bokuto chewed a few more times, before swallowing and looking up at the tight expression on Kuroo’s face, ‘How can I let you date him before you clear up this whole Keiji business?’

‘What do you mean “Keiji”! I don’t even know anyone called Keiji! What are you talking about Kou?’ Kuroo’s face scrunched up even tighter, his voice gaining even more speed and pitch as he spoke.

‘Konoha!’ Bokuto shouted, listening for the call back, ‘Could you bring Kuroo’s phone in? The one he left last month?’

‘Are you telling me that you’ve had my phone for a month and didn’t let me know?’ Kuroo muttered through gritted teeth, ‘I already bought a new one! I was about to offer a damn reward to anyone who found it.’

‘Your phone?’ Bokuto reached to grab the phone from Konoha as he brought it in, nodding thanks to him before turning back to Kuroo, ‘I thought you didn’t know anyone called Keiji?’ Bokuto pushed the casing off, tossing it onto the sofa, and flashing the phone’s engraving to Kuroo.

Kuroo blanched, looking at the phone for a moment before attempting to shrug casually, ‘Keiji is my uncle.’

‘Your uncle?!’

‘Yeah,’ Kuroo nodded, giving a tight smile, ‘Sweet little old man that lives in Kyoto and breeds dogs. Now give it back, Kou.’

‘So why does your uncle call you his uncle?’ Bokuto frowned, reading the engraving again, ‘“Uncle Tetsurou, try not to break this one. From Keiji.” Besides, your name isn’t even Tetsurou, it’s Tetsuo.’

‘It isn’t Tetsuo; it’s Tetsurou.’

‘No,’ Bokuto scoffed, tilting his head in derision while something like panic sparked in his eyes. ‘You have always told me it was Tetsuo. I introduce you as Tetsuo. You answer to Tetsuo. You even look as if your name was Tetsuo. The name literally means earnest!’ He shook his head, ‘You are the most earnest-looking person, the most Tetsuo looking person, I’ve ever seen in my life. To say your name isn’t Tetsuo is just…ridiculous! It’s even on your business cards!’ Bokuto looked about him, pulling a business card out from the discarded phone case so aggressively that the corner ripped, ‘Look, here: “Kuroo Tetsuo”. Who would ever make fake business cards?! I’ll keep this as proof that your name is Tetsuo so you can never deny it to me or to Kenma or to anyone again.’ He stared up at Kuroo in defiance.

Kuroo sighed, ‘You don’t understa-’

‘No. No. I do understand.’ Bokuto spat out, anger clearly written across his features. He turned, facing away from Kuroo, ‘You’ve been lying to me. You didn’t want to be my friend, you just wanted to befriend – to – to marry into the Bokuto family.’

‘Hey, no, dude,’ Kuroo spoke softly, used to Bokuto’s sudden mood swings at this point. He moved into Bokuto’s eye line, smiling slightly, ‘Don’t you think I’d choose a hotter family member to befriend if I just wanted to marry in?’

Frown deepening, Bokuto hunched his shoulders in on himself slightly, ‘Well then why does your “Uncle Keiji” call you uncle?’

‘That’s jus-’

Bokuto’s eyes widened, his posture correcting and all of his anger disappearing in a split second, ‘Oh my god. You’re an Ushiwaka, aren’t you?’

‘A what?’

‘I’ll let you know if you let me know why you’re Tetsuo here and Tetsurou there,’ Bokuto pouted.

‘Give me my phone first.’

Bokuto handed it over, his pout deepening as Kuroo checked it over for any damage.

‘There’s nothing to it, anyway. Akaashi, the man that adopted me, made me the guardian to his kid, Keiji, in his will. Keiji calls me uncle out of respect, something you’d never understand.’ He rolled his eyes as Bokuto stuck his tongue out in response. ‘So, Keiji is now living with his tutor at my place in the country.’

‘How old is he?’

Kuroo blinked, ‘20. Why?’

‘No reason.’ Bokuto smiled at him, glancing over to the window and then back to Kuroo. The silence stretched for a moment, with the tapping of Bokuto’s foot on the floor, a nervous habit of his that Kuroo could now spot from a mile off, the only sound in the room. ‘So where is it you live in the country again? Miyagi?’

‘Nuh-uh. Fuck right off.’

‘What?’

‘You aren’t going anywhere near Keiji, Kou.’

Bokuto gasped, his hand slapping to his chest as he looked about the room in shock. His mouth opened and shut as he shook his head, ‘I cannot, cannot believe that you would ever accuse me, your closest friend - your confidant – of attempting to inveigle his way into your ward’s heart?’

‘Why are you always so fucking eloquent when you’re lying.’

‘I would never!’ Bokuto flopped onto the sofa, spreading his arms out across the back and grinning up at Kuroo, ‘So why the two names?’

As he sat himself down under the kotatsu, Kuroo shrugged, ‘I don’t know if I can explain it?’ He leaned back, staring at the light fixtures in the ceiling, ‘When you’re someone’s guardian you have to be so serious all the time. I mean, Keiji is practically an adult now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry?’ He slumped forwards, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin on the miniature table it made, ‘So I invented a younger brother called Tetsuo,’ he said, now looking at Bokuto. ‘When I need to relax and be a part of civilisation again, I visit him.’

‘I knew you were an Ushiwaka.’

‘Alright, what in the holy heck is an Ushiwaka?’

‘You invented your “brother” Tetsuo, right?’ Bokuto asked, grin widening when Kuroo rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement, ‘Well I’ve invented my pal, Ushijima Wakatoshi. Ushiwaka for short.’

Kuroo gave a sharp nod, before rolling his neck back and staring absent-mindedly at the ceiling tiles. There was silence.

‘Kou?’

‘Hm?’

‘Elaborate.’

‘Oh!’ Bokuto sat up, blinking at Kuroo with his oversized eyes, ‘Ushiwaka is a friend of mine with really bad health. Or that’s what I say, I guess? So, whenever I have to go to some family gathering, I just let them know that Ushiwaka has the flu and I have to go help look after his dog or something. Yakkun hates him.’

Kuroo snorted at the last sentence, ‘Is there anyone Yaku does like?’

‘Haiba’s lanky son who rescues his cats from the tree?’

‘Yaku’s probably the one that put them there.’

They both burst out laughing, only stopping when the flat buzzer sounded. Bokuto turned his head, listening to the muffled conversation at the door, before standing and making his way to the door. Two short men greeted him, staring at him with equally dissatisfied expressions. The smaller of the two, Yaku Morisuke, was tapping his foot impatiently, his gingery hair seeming to raise in irritation as Bokuto looked down at him. Beside Yaku was Bokuto’s other cousin, Kozume Kenma. Kenma looked, for lack of a better word, bored: as if he’d rather be playing on the phone that he was absentmindedly fiddling with in his pocket. Bokuto understood how he felt.

‘Koutarou,’ Yaku nodded, wiggling past Bokuto and into the entrance hall. ‘Have you been good?’

‘Yeah, I’ve been feeling great, thanks, Yakkun!’

‘Not what I meant.’

Bokuto grimaced, opening the door further to let Kenma in, before shepherding them both into the living room. As they entered, Yaku slowed slightly, regarding Kuroo with a frown.

‘Kuroo-san,’ he greeted.

‘Yaku-san,’ Kuroo returned, his smile straining slightly at the edges. ‘How have you been?’

‘Wonderful. And yourself?’

‘Yes, the same here.’

They stared at each for a second longer, the air settling in the quiet until Bokuto coughed, breaking their silent war. ‘You’re looking very smart today, Kenma!’ Bokuto said, amicably.

His youngest cousin looked over to him, raising an eyebrow. ‘Not very difficult, given the company.’

‘Ouch.’ Bokuto muttered as Kuroo howled with laughter.

‘Kenma you are an absolute treat.’ Kuroo said between laughs, letting out a soft sigh when his laughter ended. He grinned at Kenma as the blond moved to sit beside him and began playing a game on his phone.

Yaku frowned as the two conversed, moving toward the armchair directly opposite them. He picked up Bokuto’s carefully placed cushion as he went, fluffing it up and placing it on the armchair before making himself comfortable. ‘Koutarou,’ he exclaimed, suddenly, ‘did you get any of those stir-fried vegetables I asked for?’

‘Why I sure di-,’ Bokuto gasped in fake horror, picking up one of the empty bowls from the table and peering into it. He ignored Kuroo’s eyeroll. ‘Konoha!’ he shouted, waiting for his assistant to enter before speaking again. ‘Why are there no stir-fried vegetables? I ordered them specially.’

Konoha shook his head, his voice sounding as grave as if he were officiating a funeral, ‘The supermarket was entirely out of Yaku-san’s favourite. I tried four different stores.’

‘No stir-fried vegetables!’

‘None at all, sir.’ Konoha glanced down at the newly revealed stain as he spoke before staring pointedly at Bokuto. ‘Absolutely unbelievable.’

Without missing a beat, Bokuto tutted in admonition, ‘Well…Thanks, Konoha.’ He watched his assistant leave the room before looking at Yaku, ‘I’m so sorry, Yakkun. No stir-fried vegetables! At all four stores!’

‘It’s fine. I’ll just have to leave earlier to get some food.’ He looked out of the windows for a moment, ‘Could you show me the playlist you’ve made for my party?’

Bokuto led Yaku out of the room, giving him a brief summary of the playlist as they went. He turned slightly as he went, smirking as he glanced between Kuroo and Kenma.

* * *

It took every inch of Kuroo’s being not to flip Bokuto the bird. The damn owl would love that, he was sure. He’d probably make Yaku look before Kuroo had time to hide it, too. Kuroo huffed, looking at Kenma out of the corner of his eye.

‘Nice day today.’

Kenma glanced at him momentarily, raising an eyebrow as he played with his phone, ‘…What do you want, Kuro?’

‘What? Nothing? I was just asking about the weather.’

‘Were not.’

‘Was too.’

‘Were not.’

‘Was- Okay, no I wasn’t.’ He sighed, twisting his fingers together. He took another deep breath, ‘I was just thinking, whilst Yaku and Kou are out of the room, you know?’ Kenma snapped his phone shut, turning to look at Kuroo. ‘I’ve known you for a really long time, right?’

‘I know.’ Kenma was watching him from under the curtains of his hair, a faint blush beginning to appear on his cheeks. Nothing that could match the heat of Kuroo’s face, though.

‘And…and I’ve always thought you were…a really amazing person.’ His breath was coming out shakily. There was a nervous (or excited?) twist of Kenma’s mouth, and Kuroo watched as the blond twisted his fingers together under the kotatsu.

He took in a shaky breath, getting ready to speak again, before he was interrupted by a small voice: ‘In my games,’ Kenma mumbled, ‘there are always goals. Things that I need to complete to win. Catch all the Pokémon, save the princess, defeat the monster.’ Kuroo could feel his heart hammering in his chest as Kenma spoke. ‘Setting goals has become a…pinnacle in our society. Set career goals, life goals, daily goals.’ He frowned and paused, before scrunching his face up slightly.

Kuroo looked at him, resting his hand on Kenma’s shoulder, ‘Kenma, are yo-’

‘I think…one of my life goals,’ he took a deep, steadying breath, ‘is to be with someone called Tetsuo.’ Kenma turned away and looked out of the window, ‘Someone earnest. Someone I can trust.’

Kuroo could feel his heart in his throat. His stomach was twisting in on itself, the queasy feelings of utter joy and nervousness and hope curling around one another within him until he could hardly understand what he was feeling. ‘K-Kenma,’ his hands shook, ‘do you love me?’

A short nod and Kuroo felt like he never felt before in his life. He felt drunk, the happy kind of drunk where his body became light and fuzzy and he knew that he’d end up doing something stupid like stealing a traffic cone or one of Yaku’s cats. He beamed at Kenma and his huge and immovable grin only grew when he saw the gentle smile of his…boyfriend? Kenma’s words resonated in his mind. He moved his hand down Kenma’s arm, intertwining their fingers as their hands met.

Kenma finally turned to face Kuroo, the small smile remained on his face as his blush deepened. He licked his lips, and Kuroo leaned down, drawn in by the soft sheen. The grip of their hands tightened, Kuroo’s breathing slowed, they were inches apart now.

‘Tetsuo.’

Kuroo froze. He drew back.

‘What’s wrong?’ Kenma asked, his brows furrowing.

‘Would you still love me if my name wasn’t Tetsuo?’

‘Well it is Tetsuo, so why does that matter?’

A car horn blared outside, birds fluttering away in fright. Kuroo turned away from Kenma, considering what to say. ‘I guess I just don’t really like the name.’ He shrugged, swallowing the lump in his throat, ‘Don’t think it suits me.’

The twisting of Kenma’s face seemed to speak a thousand words, he moved back slightly, suspicion clouding his features. Kuroo hated this look, hated the way it made his heart pang with guilt.

‘I think Tetsurou suits me better?’ His voice pitched at the end, uncertainty turning his sentence into a question.

Kenma huffed, shaking his head, ‘Tetsurou?’ Kuroo nodded in response. ‘Tetsurou sounds too aggressive. I’d never get any peace with a Tetsurou.’

‘Well it’s a good thing you’re dating a Tetsuo then, isn’t it!’ Kuroo’s voice was shrill, uncomfortable, and he could see Kenma looking at him with a slightly worried expression.

‘Yes, well…You haven’t actually asked me out yet, Kuro.’

‘Oh.’ Kuroo shook his head, ‘Oh!’ He looked about himself, before scrambling onto his knees. He sat, poised, looking directly at Kenma, smiling softly at the nervous expression on his face. ‘Kozume Kenma would you, uh, would you like to be my boyfriend?’

Kenma nodded, a grin spreading across his face. Kuroo leaned in, ready to kiss Kenma, his boyfriend.

‘Kuroo Tetsuo what in the holy hell do you think you’re doing with my cousin?’

He shot back, the angry voice of Yaku jolting through him. ‘N-nothi-’

‘Yaku, do you mind?’

‘Do I mind what?’ Yaku snapped, fixing his glare onto Kenma. His hands were balled at his sides, and Kuroo could see that he was ready to snap any second.

‘Do you mind not talking to my boyfriend like that?’

‘Boyfriend?!’ Yaku’s voice reached a decibel unlike any that Kuroo had heard before, ‘You don’t have a boyfriend.’

‘I’m pretty sure I do.’

‘No, you don’t. Now get in the car.’

‘What?’

‘Get in the car or I’ll let Le- Haiba-kun use your PS4.’

A shudder, ‘See ya, Kuro.’

Kuroo gave a feeble wave, watching Kenma slip out of the door without so much as a wave over his shoulder. Never was one for public displays, anyway. Kuroo turned to face his retribution. Anger radiated off of Yaku in waves, and, honestly, he should have expected as much. He was painfully aware of Yaku’s protective nature, especially in regard to his youngest cousin, and he wasn’t looking forward to the fallout. He could see Bokuto smirking in the background. That bastard.

‘Yaku,’ he managed, standing. From the displeased look on Yaku’s face, he wondered for a moment if the smaller man felt he was attempting to assert his dominance. Kuroo couldn’t say he wasn’t right.

‘You can sit.’

‘I’d prefer to stand.’

Dominance assertion it was. Yaku looked him up and down, before turning to dig in his bag, a look of sheer concentration on his face. When he emerged, his expression almost twice as severe, clutching a notebook and pen, Kuroo wasn’t sure whether to laugh or pass out.

‘You should know,’ Yaku began before Kuroo was able to decide which option to take, ‘if it were up to me, you would never have even been able to look at Kenma, let alone date him.’ He spat the word out as if it, itself, had caused him grievous harm. ‘I, like Sugawara-san, will only allow the most promising young men to date my little cousin. In fact, we often share notes. However,’ he continued, ‘I would be willing to rescind my judgement, should you present yourself as an eligible candidate.’

‘First, you must answer my riddles three,’ Kuroo chuckled, his laugh dying the moment he saw the expression on Yaku’s face and his quick note-taking. He watched as Bokuto backed out of the room silently. He was to go through this alone, then.

‘Do you have any hobbies?’

Kuroo hesitated, ‘Well, I play volleyball.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘I’ve noticed recently that those in their early twenties seem to act as though they know absolutely nothing, or absolutely everything,’ Kuroo had a feeling that Yaku was thinking of a tall, Russian twenty-something year old in particular when a slightly glazed look crossed his face. ‘What about family? What do your parents do?’

‘I lost both of my parents.’

‘To lose one parent is unfortunate, to lose both…’ Yaku shook his head, ‘Well, that’s just careless. Who was your father?’

Kuroo blanched as Yaku stared expectantly at him. ‘I’m…I’m afraid I never knew my father. When I said I lost my parents, well, it would actually probably be more accurate to say that they lost me.’ He paused, ‘I was…well, I was found.’

‘Found?’ Yaku whispered.

‘Yes. Akaashi-san, my guardian, found me in a handbag.’

‘A handbag?!’

‘Yes.’ Kuroo nodded, ‘I was in a large, black, leather handbag. With handles.’

‘Where-,’ Yaku cleared his throat, ‘Where exactly did this Akaashi-san find said handbag?’

‘In a cloakroom at Tokyo station.’ Kuroo frowned, ‘The Yamanote line, to be exact. He gave me the name Kuroo because he only found me after seeing a black cat slinking into the cloakroom. That black tail led him to me.’

Yaku was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Kuroo twisted his fingers around themselves, decidedly not looking Yaku in the eyes. ‘Why…’ Kuroo glanced to him, briefly, ‘Why would the line matter?!’ He shook his head and stood, ‘I was willing to overlook a lot for Kenma’s happiness, but if you want to date my cousin, then I suggest you find yourself some relatives. Bokuto, I’m leaving.’

And with that, Yaku, and Kuroo’s chance at happiness, were gone.

He threw himself back onto the sofa, barely noticing when Bokuto slipped back in and seated himself at the piano. That was until he decided to start playing the wedding march.

‘Hey, Kou, is there a chance that you could, maybe, just, um, _not fucking do that_?’

Bokuto snorted, causing Kuroo to shoot him a glare. ‘I’m guessing it didn’t exactly go as planned, then?’

‘That bloody cousin Yaku of yours.’ Kuroo growled, ‘For someone so lacking in docosahexaenoic acid he really thinks a lot of his god damn opinions.’

Bokuto blinked owlishly at him, ‘I don’t really understand that insult, but I appreciate the sentiment. Fuck relatives, man. They really have no concept of when to just leave you alone. It’d be better if they just left us be after we flew the nest.’

‘…Well, that’s a load of bull.’

‘No, it’s not!’

‘I’m not going to argue with you, dude. You’re just going to get in one of your funks.’

‘Hey!’

Kuroo rolled his eyes and pulled himself into a comfortable seating position. He watched Bokuto read his expression, his head tilting and smile dropping before he stood and joined Kuroo on the sofa. Kuroo closed his eyes as the sofa dipped, smiling slightly at the familiar touch of Bokuto’s hand in his matted hair.

‘Yaku’s word isn’t the be-all and end-all, you know.’ Kuroo hummed in response, scowling as his friend-turned-therapist-and-beautician tugged at a particularly tough knot, ‘Kenma will do as Kenma wants, that’s part of the reason Yaku is so desperate to try and control him.’

Kuroo grunted in frustration when Bokuto removed his hands from his hair to answer a light knock at the door. He heard a muffled conversation, footsteps, and then: ‘Kuro?’

His eyes shot open, ‘Kenma? What are you?’

Kenma reached over, pulling something from between the sofa cushions. He smirked, waving his phone in Kuroo’s face, ‘My bad.’

Kuroo heard a gasp and glanced over Kenma’s shoulder to find Bokuto staring open-mouthed at them. ‘Kenma, did you leave that on purpose! Yaku’s gonna be so mad whe-’

‘Bokuto-kun turn around, I have to speak to Kuro in private.’

‘I don’t kno-’

All it took was a cold look from Kenma and Bokuto was spinning on his heels, whistling an innocuous tune as he stared out of the large glass windows.

Kenma faced Kuroo once again, a small scowl on his lips. He nodded his head forward and a curtain of hair shielded his face from view. ‘Kuro,’ he began, his own personal brand of quiet, but harsh, resilience clear in his voice, ‘Yaku is being a real jerk.’

Kuroo snorted, ‘If that ain’t the truth.’

‘Ya know,’ Kenma glanced up from under his veil of hair, ‘I don’t mind about your…origin story. It just makes you seem all the more…earnest.’

‘Kenma,’ Kuroo grinned widely, opening his arms to embrace the smaller man. Before he could wrap his arms around him, however, Kenma put up his hand, preventing Kuroo from stepping any closer.

‘I need your Miyagi address.’

‘Uh, yes, it’s The Shōen, Aoba Ward.’

Kenma dropped his hand and nodded, and Kuroo could see his mind working at super-speed, it took all his strength not to lean down and kiss him then and there. ‘Bokuto, you can turn around now.’

‘Thanks, I’ve already turned around.’

Kuroo rolled his eyes and tutted. ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’ He looped his arm over Kenma’s shoulder and, sticking his tongue out at a now-texting Bokuto, led the blond out of the room.

* * *

‘When do you want your bags packed by?’ Konoha popped his head around the corner, waving his phone at Bokuto.

‘Tomorrow! I need to visit Ushiwaka, he’s got to have his kidney removed.’

‘Wow,’ droned Konoha. ‘That’ll be the third one, now.’

Bokuto scowled, spinning on his piano stool and staring out of the large windows. A cloud loomed overhead, a foreboding sign that Bokuto chose to ignore. ‘I hope tomorrow is a good day.’

‘It never is.’

‘Uwah, Konoha! You could at least be a little pleasant!’

‘I live to serve.’ Konoha grabbed the cooled down grill and moved back toward the kitchen. ‘One of these days, Ushiwaka is going to get you in some real shit.’

Bokuto ignored him, and instead smiled down at his phone as his train ticket was confirmed. Who cares what Konoha thought, tomorrow was going to be a great day, if only for the expression on Kuroo’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd apologise to Oscar Wilde but tbh he'd probably have written the fic himself if he could.


End file.
